


If Only For Tonight

by fortunata13



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunata13/pseuds/fortunata13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter between two strangers turns passionate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only For Tonight

“You look awfully lonesome sitting here all by yourself,” he said as he slid onto the empty stool next to her –– employing what he surely considered to be his most charming smile. “Good thing I got here just in time to save you.” She sighed but didn’t bother looking at him. “Oh come on, give a guy a break.” He got off the stool and edged in closer, resting his forearm on the bar. “Get the lady a fresh drink, on me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, covering her hand with mine, “The lady is with me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, shaking his head as he walked away. “All the hot chicks are gay these days.”

She smirked and thanked me for the gesture. ‘No need,’ I replied, keeping my hand in place.

“Guys these days are all jerks,” she said.

‘I can assure you with a degree of certainty that surpasses that of most women your age, that it isn’t a phenomenon of modernity.’ She smiled –– a genuine smile this time. ‘Men are the one species somehow excluded from the evolutionary process.’ She smiled that lovely smile again and looked down at my hand –– which was still covering hers –– but made no effort to remove it.

“I can’t say that I disagree.” She then conducted what I can only describe as a brief study of my mannerisms, demeanor, and features. “What brings you to South Dakota? You…seem a little out of place.”

‘I imagine I do, yes. I came here to retrieve various items that were mistakenly stored here, family heirlooms of purely sentimental value.’ She nodded and took a sip of her drink but her eyes, her lovely eyes, never left mine. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t exactly blend with the scenery either.’

She tipped her head losing herself in her own thoughts for a few seconds. “Life takes us down unexpected paths. What do you do?” she asked me, in a not very subtle attempt to shift the attention away from herself.

‘I’m an inventor and sometime writer.’ By the gleeful expression on her face, I decided she fervently approved of my career choices.

“Like a female H.G. Wells,” she said quite enthusiastically.

Needless to say, her response amused and surprised me all at once. ‘Very astute of you, that is exactly who I am.’ She laughed the loveliest laugh I’d ever heard.

We sat at the bar discussing topics ranging from literature to quantum physics for nearly three hours. Her in-depth knowledge of literature and her ability to quote obscure passages of the classics only added to her appeal. Perhaps the future wasn’t as bleak as I initially believed. “I grew up in a bookstore,” she said, by way of explanation.

“Is this one of those family heirlooms?” she asked, reaching for my most precious possession. “May I?” she asked. I hesitated at first but then it occurred to me that I trusted her. I, who in all of my years had never trusted anyone outside of myself, trusted this lovely stranger.

‘By all means,’ I said, following her gaze until it fell upon Christina’s beautiful face. The air left my lungs when my gaze fell upon it as well.

Releasing the locket and taking hold of my arm with a face filled with concern, she asked, “Are you okay?”

I closed my eyes for a moment before answering. ‘I am,’ I said, doing my best to give her a reassuring smile. ‘As I said, sentimental value.’ We sat in a comfortable silence watching other patrons come and go, but in that silence there was an exchange that we both clearly understood. ‘You’ve had me at a disadvantage all evening,’ I said.

She furrowed her brow for a moment. “Oh, Myka, my name is Myka. But you never told me your name either –– unless you really do go by H.G. Wells,” she said with a bit of a smirk.

‘Usually, yes, but you can call me Helena. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Myka.’

“Likewise,” she said.

I then decided on a rather abrupt transition. Time is a commodity I know a good deal about. Time and timing, however, are not two in the same –– the latter I’ve not mastered and thus tend to ignore it. ‘“Although I do not hope to turn again. Although I do not hope. Although I do not hope to turn.’”

She smiled a sad smile, and said, “T.S. Eliot.” And we both already knew how the evening would end. There could be a word, or perhaps two but it wasn’t necessary. My room key already sat on the counter. I looked down at it then up at her. The rest was for her to decide –– she knew as much. She was nervous, and because she was nervous, it took her a moment to reach for it but she had already decided, hours ago - this stranger with an air of melancholy, who seemed to belong in a different place, a different time even, would be her lover for the night. It would only happen once and we would never see each other again, but there was H.G. Wells and T.S. Eliot, and me, a melancholy stranger, so out of place that she probably reasoned I wasn’t real –– and why not? After spending a century cast in bronze, I too tended to doubt my own existence.

The lift, mercifully, carried other guests, sparing us both the awkwardness that surely would have ensued had we stood there together –– and yet so very alone. When we walked in the room I told her how lovely she was, and I kissed her lips. Her dexterous fingers made quick work of my blouse and from that moment on we were both driven by pure desire. I parted her lovely legs, and then it was I who was suddenly nervous –– uncharacteristically so. It was the realization that this body, this hundred and thirty-six-year-old body, hadn’t touched or been touched for a hundred years. As is my tendency, I masked my emotions with words. ‘You have the kind of beauty that can break a heart that is already broken,’ I said, and she kissed me sweetly.

“You’re incredible,” she said, throwing her head back as she took her pleasure from this stranger who probably wasn’t real but who, at this moment, encompassed the whole of her world. After hours of lovemaking, she fell asleep in my arms, and caught in a moment of endless wonder, it occurred to me that if the world were different than what it was, I could love her and perhaps she could love me. I took off the locket I held so dear and placed it on the night table for her, along with a note that simply said, ‘thank you’.


End file.
